


Squatching

by Tib



Series: Cryptids [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, AU nonmagical, F/F, F/M, It doesn't make sense, M/M, Proceed with caution, Severus... is a cryptozoologist???, Strangers to Lovers, TW slight self-harm, nothing too serious but be careful, pls read and enjoy, squatching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 15:24:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16495253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tib/pseuds/Tib
Summary: Harry gets dragged along on a camping trip. Except, it isn't any ordinary camping trip--Harry and his friends are on a trip to find Sasquatch. And, unfortunately for Harry, he gets lost in the woods.Or: A quick trip to find Bigfoot ends... well?"Another grossly sentimental thought comes to mind, and Harry thinks that maybe getting lost was the best thing that’s happened to him."





	Squatching

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my friend Brandi](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+friend+Brandi).



> I worked on this for 3 long months. It's the first thing I've ever finished, so if you don't like it, I'll post up.  
> jk.  
> Ignore the plot holes, ignore the ridiculousness, and relax and enjoy!
> 
> This story makes no sense, there's slight OOC, and for some godforsaken reason, Sasquatch is in here.  
> ;)

**1**

Harry reaches up to wipe the sweat off his forehead. The sun has been beating down on him for the entirety of the hike, and it makes him regret letting himself get talked (i.e., threatened) into a hunting trip. Moreso because he’s “squatching."

He’s hunting fucking Bigfoot.

Luna is an avid believer in the unbelievable. If Harry had any questions about creatures that didn't exist or foreign conspiracies, he'd always go to her. Not that he ever had any questions about that, but the point remains; Luna's... weird.

“I think here should be a good place to stop,” Luna’s airy voice somehow seems a bit more magical in the forests surrounding them. “We can set up the tents now if you’d like.”

Ginny moves to Luna’s side, setting up their shared tent. The girls had started dating forever ago, and when Luna said she planned on going to America to hunt down _The_ Sasquatch, well, Ginny has never been able to tell Luna No.

Harry watches as Ron and Hermione are pitching up their own tent, and cringes at all the giggling and moaning he knows he’ll soon hear coming from their tent late tonight. He imagines Ron only came along because Hermione demanded him to be supportive of Luna. Obliviously, Ron wouldn’t have his life together if he didn’t have his girlfriend in it.

Harry looks towards his tent, which is just laying pathetically on the forest floor. God, he didn’t want to be here. But when Ginny begged them to come along for Luna’s sake, he couldn’t find it in him to turn her down. Luna is his friend anyway, so he’d be there for her.

Even if it involves camping deep in some forest looking for something that _doesn’t exist_.

Harry gets his tent set up, and by the time he’s done, Ron already has gathered some wood for a small campfire.

“Took you forever to set your tent up, Harry,” Ginny comments, sitting in a camping chair as Ron lights a fire.

“Well, _Ginny_ , I’ll have you know that I’ve never been camping before.” He throws a smile at her. If there was one thing to look forward to, it was the time he’d get to spend with his friends.

“Well, _Harry_ , we’re doing more than just camping. This is squatching, babe, and once it hits the late hours, we’re out of here.”

He rolls his eyes at Ginny, then turns to look through the silhouette of the trees towards the sky. The pink-orange hue that paints the horizon shows that it’s not long until the sun completely sets and leaves them all in darkness.

Harry sighs and unfolds his chair, placing it in front of the fire. Despite how far he is from it, the heat still reaches him. It’s nearly too much for Harry, who is already struggling to adjust to dry heat of a California summer. Having lived in London all his life, he’s used to warm, sometimes rainy summers, but not scalding temperatures that make him melt.

So, he scoots his chair back, as Luna pulls out marshmallows, chocolate, and some sort of biscuit.

“We’re making smores.” She announces, impaling a marshmallow onto a stick that she presumably found off the ground. Harry cringes at the sight.

“Luna is that hygienic?” Hermione asks, a bit of worry on her face.

“No, I don’t think so,” Luna responds nonchalantly. “But this is how the Americans do it.”

So, with some hesitance, everyone follows her lead.

“How long do you have to wait? My marshmallow is black.” Ginny frowns.

“Mine’s on fire,” Ron says, completely straight-faced. And true enough, at the end of his stick, his marshmallow burned.

Harry laughs as Hermione hurries to blow out the fire for her boyfriend. “Ron!” she hisses, “Be more careful.”

He only shrugs and looks to Luna. “What’s next?”

"You have to get some of these graham crackers and... well, they’re like biscuits, I guess. And then, you place chocolate on the biscuit, put the marshmallow on it, and use another to biscuit to pull the stick out of the marshmallow." With some struggle, Luna does this and smiles prettily when she succeeds. "Now you have a s'more."

Harry follows her lead and makes his own s’more. His marshmallow is as black as everyone else's, apart from Hermione. She’s managed to get her marshmallow a perfect golden brown.

“Welf, shift.” Ron’s mouth is stuffed with his own s’more. “This ‘s greaft.”

"And wonderfully sticky," Luna holds up her hands and shows off the strings of melted marshmallow hanging from her fingers like spider webs.

Everyone’s face is covered in chocolate and marshmallow by the end of it, and despite how sticky and gross Harry’s face feels, his chest is incredibly warm.

**2**

“So, what’s the plan?” Ron asks.

They all have hiking gear on, backpacks, and headlights. Harry is sure they all look ridiculous. But Luna is vibrating with excitement, so he supposed it doesn't matter how silly they all look.

“We’re hunting,” Luna answers. “Hermione, you have the compass, yeah?”

“Yes,” she holds up the compass. “If we go that way, we’ll be heading North of our camping site.”

Luna nods. Harry’s sure he’s never seen her so determined, and he’s not looking forward to the end of the trip when they walk away empty-handed. She’s the last person who deserves to feel disappointed.

At first, they walk in silence. Harry breathes in the fresh air, and for the first time in a while, feels relaxed. Maybe he’d been approaching this trip all wrong; Instead of a chore, it’s beginning to feel more like a proper vacation. He looks around the woods, his light hitting endless amounts of trees. He reaches up to his head, turning off his headlight so he can get a proper look at the stars through the treetops. Despite the branches sticking out and blocking the view, Harry smiles. The starry sky outlines the leaves and branches of the trees, and it makes the atmosphere only more enthralling. The sight was breathtaking to Harry. London’s great, and it’s his home, but he wouldn’t ever be able to find a view like this in the bustling city.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it, mate?”

Harry jumps, hand on his heart. “Jesus, Ron, can you be more creepy?”

He laughs, “Bet. Watch this,” he turns off his headlight and motions for Harry to follow behind him. So, with a roll of his eyes, Harry does.

Ron creeps behind the girls, and in the moment, Harry copies him. Ron sneaks up behind Hermione and Harry goes for Ginny, already pumping with adrenaline. He has to hold his breath to keep breathy chuckles from escaping him.

He glanced at Ron. In the dark, he can just make out his friend mouthing a countdown, “3, 2, 1...”

Harry grabs Ginny and growls. He feels her shoulder tense under his hand as she shrieks. But before Harry can even get a laugh in, she turns around and smacks him.

He winces, hand going immediately to his face, where it stings. The groan he hears from Ron makes Harry think Hermione reacted the same way.

“Oh my God, Harry! Are you okay?” Ginny reaches for him, grabbing his face and turning it to look at his cheek. Harry has to close his eyes because her light is on his face. “Oh, jeez, Harry... it’s so red.”

He peels his eyes open, searches for her sympathetic face behind her light.

And then he’s full-out laughing, and Ginny joins in his fit. She reaches an arm around him, giving him a half-hug.

“Remind me not to mess with you again,” Harry says, rubbing his cheek.

“I’ll kick you in the balls next time you try and pull that on me again,” She teases.

“Guys!” An excited hiss comes from Luna, “Turn off your lights!”

Harry’s eyes have trouble adjusting to the sudden darkness, but soon his can make out the dark shapes around him.

“Luna, what is it?” Ginny asks, moving next to the blonde.

“Listen.”

Everyone is suddenly silent. The soft breeze whistles past Harry's ear, and his heart is beating.

Da-bum, da-bum, da-bum.

To the left of the group, the leaves rustle, far off in the distance. His head snaps in that direction, but he can’t see anything in the dark. The leaves rustle louder, and it’s as if whatever it is that’s making the noise is running.

“Luna!”

Ginny calls, chasing after Luna who charged in the direction of the noise.

Now, Harry is filled with genuine concern. He follows, awful what-ifs filling his head. They were in the woods, where dangerous animals _lived_. Bears, mountain lions... something that could kill one of them.

Harry picks up his pace, sprinting and dashing through the trees. In his adrenaline rush, he's quick and jumps over branches and rocks in his way, even in the dark. He's hyper-aware, and he has no intention of seeing any of his friends get hurt.

“Luna!” Ginny calls again from ahead of him. She slows down, and so does he, coming up behind her.

Luna stands there in the middle of the forest, chest moving as she takes in deep breaths. “I almost had it... I was so close."

Harry scowls, angered by the young woman's carelessness. "Luna, are you crazy? You could have been hurt! We don't know what's out here!"

In the blackness of night, Harry can see his choice of words hurt her.

“I’m not crazy,” her voice cracks, and she shakes her head. “I’m _not_ crazy.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...” Harry lifts his hand, meaning to reach out and comfort Luna, but Ginny pulls the blonde into a tight hug.

“Of course not, babe. He didn’t mean that.” She looks over her girlfriend’s head to Harry. She gives him a tight smile.

Harry puts his hand down and sighs, upset with himself. He should have known better.

There’s a light shining on them, and Harry turns to it. Hermione and Ron had caught up with them, and up close Harry can see there looks of concern.

“Is everything okay?” Ron asks worriedly, looking over the situation.

“Yeah,” Harry breathes, running his hand through his hair. “Let’s just head back.”

They walk back to the campsite in silence, Harry quietly reprimanding himself on the way there.

In his worry, he had been forgetful. Calling Luna crazy had been a new low for him. When Harry first met Luna in school, she had gone off for so long about creatures that couldn't possibly exist. Bigfoot, Mothman, skinwalkers... all these mythical beings that were all just stories told for entertainment. It was immediately clear she believed in them. It put Harry off at first, but once he looked past that, it was clear Luna was soft, kind-hearted girl. Once he spent more time with her, he realized people weren't so quick to look past her interests.

_“Loony Luna! Loony Luna!”_

She had been dealing with those bullies for so long and continued to be herself. Harry was blown away by her. He began to admire her.

Luna is the bravest girl he knows.

And he called her crazy.

Harry reaches to pinch his arms, as he does when he’s upset. He keeps doing it until his arm his aching, and he knows tomorrow it’ll be purpled with bruises.

“Harry,” a soft hand is on his, stopping him from hurting himself.

He turns, his light flashing on Luna’s face. He frowns and pulls his hand back, looking away shamefully.

“I forgive you. I know you didn’t mean it.” She reaches down and grabs his hand. “I know you’d never mean that.”

He doesn’t respond and presses his lips together.

“You’re still pinching yourself.”

Harry flinches. “It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“But that doesn’t mean you have to punish yourself. I acted silly, and I didn’t think of the consequences. I know you were only worried.”

She squeezes his hand. “I love you, Harry.”

He finally looks back at her and sees the genuine concern in her face. He leans in and places a kiss on her head.

“Love you too.”

“Hey! You better get your hands off my girl, Harry!” Ginny calls light-heartedly from behind them. He offers out a more genuine smile and feels a little lighter.

**3**

The night goes by sleeplessly for Harry. Mostly because Ron and Hermione still decide to shag in their tents, even after the group's scare. Harry entirely blames that on Ron, the insatiable little perv.

The daytime isn't exactly exciting either. Luna was on "squatch watch” (a term coined by Ron, who thought it was hilarious) all day, and didn’t take the binoculars away from her face once. Hermione lounged around reading, Ginny sunbathed, and Ron continued to sleep until well past noon. Harry felt like he spent most of his day swatting bugs away.

But then it was time to set up the campfire again. Harry volunteered to grab some wood, if only because it gave him something to do.

“Be quick; the sun is going to set soon.”

Harry waves off Hermione’s warning and puts in his headphones. A quick walk through the forest while listening to his favorite music appeals to him immensely. After his slight anxiety attack from yesterday, his thoughts were jumbled. He’d just take a moment to enjoy his music and just breathe.

He hums with the music as he walks through the trees, grabbing sticks and smaller fallen branches. The sky is the same pink-orange from yesterday; the colors are the brightest at the horizon. Birds are chirping and singing in the treetops, a squirrel runs in front of him and climbs up a tree. It pauses briefly, clinging to the bark with its paws, and looks at Harry.

Harry holds his breath. Slowly, he removes his earbuds and places them in his pockets next to his iPod. When the squirrel doesn’t move, he takes a chance and says, “Hello.”

It doesn’t move or look away. Instead, it sniffs in Harry’s direction as though it’s saying Hi back.

Then, the squirrel takes off, scurrying up the tree and hides away in the leaves.

Shaking his head, Harry laughs slightly at himself and continues with his walk.

By the time the sun is nearly gone, and the sky is a dark purple, Harry's arms are full of sticks and branches. His arms ache, especially the arm he abused yesterday. With a wince, he turns around, determined to get back to the campsite promptly.

And then he stops dead in his tracks.

Where the fuck is he?

He looks around frantically. Did he take any turns? Did he just go straight? He can’t see the bright green tents anywhere. He turns around in circles, hectic and worried.

Nothing. There’s no sign of his friends.

“Ron? Hermione?” He calls, suddenly breathless.

His voice rises with his anxiety. “Luna! Ginny!”

No response.

Harry picks a direction and runs. But it’s so dark.

Dark.

He sees nothing. He turns around and runs in a different direction.

Dark.

Again, he turns around.

Dark.

Nothing.

Harry is lost.

The sun is rising by the time Harry gives up.

He sits, leans against a tree and decides to stay put. They would find if he doesn’t move, he’s sure of it.

He reaches up and pinches his arm again, over and over. How did he manage to get lost so easily?

_I’m such a fucking idiot._

He closes his eyes, exhaustion taking over after a night of adrenaline-filled worry. He goes to sleep.

**4**

When he comes to, the first thing he notices is how thirsty he is. He groans, only hurting his sore throat further. He lifts a hand to his throat and rubs it, hoping to ease some of the strain.

“Here.”

Harry startles at the sudden voice. He opens his eyes, seeing only darkness at first. Then he’s able to make out the water bottle held on from of him. He grabs it and drinks greedily without thinking.

“Tch. You’re welcome.”

Harry focuses on the figure before him. He stands, slowly, his muscles aching in protest. Sleeping against a tree is not the most comfortable thing in the world.

“Thanks,” he croaks.

He only receives a ‘hmpf’ in return. All Harry is able to make out of the man is that he’s tall. Most of his features are hidden in the night.

“How long have I been out here?” Harry asks.

“How am I to know?” The man snarks.

Harry recoils, not expecting a stranger, one who essentially might have just saved his life, to be so rude. He suddenly feels unsafe and scared in this man’s company.

Steeling himself, Harry comments, “You’re not from here.”

The man’s voice is deep and smooth, but not only that, his accent is very posh. Harry’s nose wrinkles, thinking it’s just his luck he gets saved by a snobby prick.

“Neither are you.”

“No. I’m Harry. From London.” He tells the man shortly.

The man nods. “My name is Snape.”

Well, that’s that, Harry guesses.

“What idiocy led you to nearly die in the forest?” Snape’s voice sounds far too amused for the situation.

Harry flushes, embarrassed. “You don’t have to be rude. Why are _you_ out here?”

“That is none of your concern.”

It's like he’s stuck in some verbal standoff, and Harry feels unequipped to go up against this stranger.

“I, just,” he sighs and rubs his forehead. “Please tell me you’ll help me find my friends. We were camping out here and—”

“No.”

Harry recoils. “What?”

“Shall I repeat myself? I said No.”

“Are you having a laugh?”

“No.”

Now that Harry’s eyes are properly adjusted he can see Snape’s sneer.  _Ugly sod_ , he thinks to himself.

“Why then?”

“I do not doubt that your friends are already actively searching for you. If they were smart, they’d contact the police.”

Harry wonders why the man even wasted his time helping him.

“What are you going to do then? Just fucking, take—kidnap me?”

Snape groans, clearly exasperated with the younger man. “I have no intentions of wasting my time helping you find your way back. There are only two choices for you: stay with me until you are found or take your chances roaming around in the trees.”

Harry immediately puts as much distance between the two of them as possible, despite how much he wants to reach forward and punch the man. “What makes your time worth so much more than my life?”

The man sighs, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Your life may mean nothing to me as a stranger, but I do have conscious, which is why I would prefer you’d stay with me. But I will not force you too. If you would rather go searching for them, go ahead.”

Harry is confused by the logic but doesn’t want to argue anymore. “Okay. Okay. Yeah, I guess I’ll stay with you.”

There’s nothing but the sound of cicadas and squirrels rustling the leaves of trees. It’s awkward, and it almost makes Harry reconsider and dart away to the direction of his friends. Except... he didn’t know what direction that was.

“Can you at least tell me what you were doing out here? You weren’t, I don’t know, burying dead bodies were you?”

The slight chuckle that emerges from Snape surprises Harry, but it also makes him feel a bit less anxious about the situation. "No, certainly not."

“Soo... then why are you out here?”

“I am a cryptozoologist at the University of London. I am looking for Sasquatch.”

**5**

The sun is setting.

Harry's done the math, he thinks. He had slept through the daylight by the time Snape found him, wasting away a day. He guesses this, but he's sure he couldn't have slept much more than that. Since he agreed to go with Snape, two more days have passed. Despite their less than pleasant first encounter, they've gotten on well enough. And if they only got along because they haven't exchanged more than a handful of words, so be it.

“We should stop here and rest,” Snape says, looking about. They stood on the flat top of a huge rock wedged into the earth, which formed a nice ledge at the top of the hill.  “This place will give us the advantage of looking downward.”

"Why does it matter if we have a good viewpoint or not?" Harry asks though he knows the answer. Everything Snape has done in the last two days has all been to increase his chances in witnessing the one and only Sasquatch.

Snape glares his way. In the daylight, Harry sees him more clearly. The man has a hooked nose, thin lips set between frown lines, and twisted, yellow teeth. He’s far from handsome, but Harry can’t deny the natural intensity the man carries with him. The way his dark, long hair frames his face and casts shadows on his features nearly causes Harry to glance away from the man.

“I won’t say it.” The man shoots Harry a scornful look. “I know what you’ve been doing.”

A sly smile forms on the lips of the younger man. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I know you’ve been laughing at me, making a joke of my profession.” Snape accuses, crossing his arms across his chest. Harry’s eyes travel over the older man’s body, noting the tenseness there. He’s uncomfortable, Harry realizes. Snape’s guarding himself.

With a burrowing brow, he carefully admits, “Yeah... I was.”

Before Snape can physically attack him, Harry continues, “But only because it just doesn’t make sense. You take yourself so seriously, like, I couldn’t possibly imagine a man like you would care about a couple of imaginary creatures.”

Going by the sour look on the man’s face, Harry’s explanation did little to quell him.

“I’ll have you know that I am perfectly capable of being a man of intellect and still maintain my beliefs on these ‘imaginary creatures’ as you may call them.”

With a sigh, green eyes turn to the ground, tracing the outline of his own silhouette. It’s proven to be difficult to talk with Snape. Neither of the men were able to find any common ground so far. It only made being lost that much more grueling for Harry. He’s spent the last few distracting himself

"I'm sorry." Harry concedes, deciding it would be best to suck up his pride if only to remain on semi-good terms with Snape until they part ways.

“You will be.”

Harry raises his eyebrow, slightly shocked by the teasing smirk on his companion’s face.

“I didn’t think you were capable of joking.” He teases back with some hesitance. But if this is a chance to get along with the man who saved his life, he’s going to take it. Because, in spite of Harry’s dubious trust he held towards Snape, he is grateful to the man for helping him, in his own sort of way. It’s just hard to show any generosity to such a stern bloke.

"Joking. Of course," Snape whispers under his breath, and Harry has to strain his ears to hear it. A thoughtful look crosses Snape's features before he looks away, and he slowly begins setting up the tent.

With a bit of confusion, Harry moves to help him, in hopes of getting a better read of the other man’s emotions. He realizes the pale man is slightly flushed, and Harry wonders why. The sun is gone, and hot California weather has cooled. Somewhat panicked, Harry considers that Snape might be getting sick.

“Are you feeling okay?”

With a suspicious glance, Snape asks, “What do you mean?”

“Your cheeks are red, I just wondered if maybe you were getting sick.”

“Don’t feign kindness with me.”

 _‘Aaaaand we’re back to square one with that sneer,_ ' Harry rolls his eyes and focuses his attention on finishing up the tent. There's no way to get through to this man. It's infuriating.

Once the tent is up, Harry crawls in. It's relatively small, unfortunately, but he's just glad that Snape shares it with him, instead of making him sleep outside. Of course, if he slept outside, he'd avoid the awkwardness of sleeping so close to the cryptid enthusiast. You win some; you lose some.

Harry settles down for the night, hoping to fall asleep before Snape decides to return to bed.

Every night, before he went to sleep, Snape would sit outside the tent with a night vision camera and look for any giant, hairy men.

Harry chuckles to himself at _that_ thought.

He’s yet to tell the older man why he was out in the forest to begin with. But why should he? Harry knows he'd only be mocked. He can picture Snape's curling, self-satisfied smile when Harry admits that he too was out here "squatching."

Though... maybe it is a good way to break the flimsy barrier between the two of them. Who knows how long they'd be stuck together.

Making up his mind, Harry gets comfortable, determined to wait for Snape to return to the tent. He will get this man to open up to him if it’s the last thing he does.

He doesn't know how long he lays on the flimsy sleeping bag before Snape unzips the tent and crawls in, but by the time he does, Harry's been fighting to keep his eyes open.

“How did your Squatch Watch go?” he whispers tiredly to the dark-haired man.

“What? What did you just say to me?”

Harry shivers at the crackly hoarseness of Snape's tired voice, then laughs at the disbelief he finds there and repeats, "Your Squatch Watch.”

He’s surprised when Snape gives a chuckle and asks, “Where did you come across that horrid term?”

Harry turns on his side to face Snape. “My friend Ron. We were out here with a few other friends because one of them wanted to find Bigfoot. When Luna would use her binoculars to find it, Ron called it the Squatch Watch.”

There’s a moment of quiet. Harry hears the change in Snape's breathing--a long exhale from his nose before he lets out a huffing laugh.

“What a ludicrous phrase.”

“Yeah, it is.” Harry snickers, finally letting his eyes close.

“You came here to help your friend find a sasquatch?”

“Yeah.”

“But you don’t believe.”

Something in Snape’s voice makes Harry force his eyes open. Without his glasses, it’s nearly impossible to make out anything in the darkness, but he’s still able to see the outline of Snape’s body. He’s on his side now, his soft breath just barely hitting Harry’s face.

“No. I don’t think I do.” For some reason, his heart starts beating just a little faster.

“I’ll change your mind.”

And, _oh_ , the change in the atmosphere is noticeable. Tension suddenly makes its way into the tent, hanging over the two men. Only this time, the tension is welcomed by Harry.

"I dare you." He breathes, lips barely moving. Without thinking, he shifts closer to the older man. God, being this close to the man allows Harry to smell him. He smells dirty and musky, but it only appeals to Harry instead of grossing him out.

A hitch in Snape’s breathing and he asks, “What do I get if I do?”

Now, just what was the man implying? Harry’s head is racing, and he’s suddenly wide awake again.

"I..." he trails off, trying to find a witty response, but he can't. His thoughts are too jumbled.

Before he can make some sort of coherent comment, Snape rolls over to his back and says, “Goodnight, Harry.”

**6**

_Elegant, nimble fingers trace his inner thigh and Harry mewls._

_Green eyes search in the dark for the man that's caressing him so painfully teasingly._

_A hand grasps his balls and massages them. A groan is heard, but Harry isn’t sure if it came from him, the other man, or both._

_A warm mouth covers the head of Harry’s cock, and this time Harry knows the groan came from him._

_A tongue flicks out against the slit, and suddenly he's swallowing Harry all the way down. He feels the man's nose against his skin, can feel the cool air as the man inhales there._

_The man sucks hard, and Harry has to control himself, so he doesn't come embarrassingly fast._

_He feels the man’s tongue press against the underside of his cock as he pulls back and twirls it around Harry’s head._

_And then Harry’s swallowed down to the base again, the man sucking just as hard as before, hallowing his cheeks._

_Fuck. The man repeats the motions over and over with such dedication to Harry’s pleasure that Harry feels tears prickle at the corner of his eyes._

_And right before Harry comes, the man pulls away entirely and says:_

“Harry. Get up.”

Groggily, the young man opens his eyes and sits up slowly. He fumbles for his glasses when he realizes all he sees is covered in a thick haze.

When he put them on, he sees Snape, crouching down to peak through the tents opening.

“Come on, we’re leaving,” he says, before stepping away from the tent.

With a groan, Harry falls back. Then, the color from his face drains away as he recalls the very _explicit_ dream he had. Without a doubt, Harry knows it was Snape who was sucking him off in the dream, and he realizes with horror that he has a hard-on.

“Fuck,” he hisses. He has no clue how to hide it and imagines the sneer that’ll cross Snape’s face once he notices Harry’s erection.

_“Do we have a little... problem, Harry?”_

He clenches his eyes shut in embarrassment and tries to hide away from and dirty, unwanted thoughts about Snape on his knees.

Instead, Harry thinks about Ron taking a bath in the most seductive way possible, and like magic, Harry’s no longer aroused.

He sits up again. He yawns, rubbing his neck as he does. And slowly, his hand slides from his neck to his shoulder, and then to his arm. He rubs it, finding that it's no longer sore. Out of shame and habit, he pinches the skin there. It's always his arm, and he pinches as hard as possible. It's one of the more sensitive parts of his body, so pinching it hurt. Never horribly, but so uncomfortably that it was impossible to ignore. Again, another pinch.

Another. Another. Another.

Harry doesn’t stop until all he can think about is the tingling soreness that warms his skin.

Finally, with his head a little clearer, he moves out of the tent. He avoids looking at Snape as he exits the tent, feeling too ashamed to do so.

“We’re going to head East, I believe.”

Biting his lip, Harry casts a glance Snape’s way. He’s looking up towards the sky, his hand shading his eyes from the sun. Harry swallows at the sight of him when his shirt lifts up to expose the pale skin there. Harry hadn’t noticed how willowy the man is, and now it seems his body is all Harry can think of.

Hurrying to distract himself, Harry rolls up his borrowed sleeping bag. Snape's already gathered up his stuff, so the younger man rushes to put his things away. He isn't under the impression that Snape is a patient man.

“Let’s get going. I think there might be a river or creek nearby,” Snape says as he moves over to Harry’s side to help take down the tent.

“Wha—" Harry's voice cracks and he clears his throat. "What makes you say that?"

He feels Snape’s eyes on him, but he refuses to look away from the tent as he finishes taking it down and packing it up.

“Harry, do you know how to listen?”

Well, that certainly caught his attention. Harry meets the other man’s accusing glare with a slight pout. “Excuse me? Of course, I do."

“Then listen.”

“To what? There’s nothing to—”

“Shut. Up.”

Harry bites his tongue and does as he’s told. How the hell is he supposed to hear a river in the middle of a forest?

But he does try to. At first, he just hears a slight breeze go past his ear, rustling trees where birds are perching, singing in the late morning. But there's no sound of rushing water that reaches his ear.

“I don’t hear it,” he admits.

A flicker of amusement is seen in dark brown eyes, and Harry can’t move his eyes away. Thin lips curl at his words, and Harry is suddenly bashful.

“Listen closer.”

So Harry tries again. He ignores the wind and trees and birds and just barely he hears the quiet sound of rushing water.

A soft gasp and, “Oh.” Harry can hear it to the right of him. He looks in that direction but sees nothing. “Where is it though?”

“Rivers move downhill, so we shall head in that direction,” Snape points a long, elegant finger in some direction, but all Harry can think about is those fingers trailing along Harry’s thighs with movements so similar to that in his dream.

“Right, o-of course.”

Harry hurries to head the way Snape pointed after packing up everything. He spares no glance at the man.

He can hear the heavy pit-pat of the man’s footsteps as he trails behind. Harry’s thankful that he doesn’t seem eager to catch up with him.

He focuses on walking.

Step. Step. Step.

_This is awful._

They’ve walked in silence before, but now, after last night, it feels like Harry’s unsaid words and thoughts linger in the air. Like his own secrets would betray him and give themselves away.

They waver in his mouth, like an overflowing cup, but Harry’s careful. He won’t let his secrets spill.

**7**

They’re sunbathing.

What they had heard earlier wasn’t a river. It’s a waterfall.

It isn't a giant, towering waterfall that pushes water over the edge of a cliff. Instead, it’s water rushing down steps of rock, creating a beautiful pool of marine blue at the bottom.

Harry made the mistake of jumping right in. Luckily his iPod was in Snape’s bag, but his clothes were soaked. Which meant that left Harry mostly nude until they dry off.

Harry’s never been shy about being half-naked around anyone, but the way Snape’s eyes had lingered on his body inspired a bit of self-consciousness in Harry.

So he enjoys the sun and imagines Snape isn’t next to him. He doesn’t look at Snape’s tanning legs or relaxed face. No, he does not.

“I have a confession.”

Harry's eyes snap up to Snape's face. He blushes fiercely to find Snape already had his eyes on him.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes,” Snape confirms, with a nod of his head. He must’ve not noticed how strained Harry’s voice was, and Harry is grateful for the small miracle. “I am lost too.”

Harry furrows his brows and asks, “What?”

"When I came across you, I had been wandering the forest for a few days, looking for a way out. I... I lost my compass, map, and sense of direction because I was foolish. I chose not to sleep for fear of missing a sighting of it, and in doing so, slowed my cognitive functions,” Snape turns his head, hiding his face away from Harry. “When I found you, I took advantage of the situation. I knew you had friends that would look for you, while I did not.”

Harry is only more confused. “But why did you not just help me find my friends?”

Snape turns his attention back on the younger man with a pointed look. “I thought they’d find us before we’d find them. Did you even know where to begin in your search? What direction to go?”

Harry concedes with a shake of his head, but he wonders if there’s something more Snape is hiding.

“It is... possible that I was wrong though.”

Harry feigns a shocked gasp and asks, “You? Wrong? But that’s—that’s impossible!”

Snape glares, but Harry notices the quirk of his lips as Snape fights a smile.

 _Are we finally getting along?_ Harry thinks. He's glad for it, but hesitant all the same. He's attracted to Snape. A surprising development for the younger man, indeed, but his biggest concern is keeping it hidden. If the older man knew what Harry thought, surely he’d leave him here all alone; he would be disgusted by being the object of Harry’s _freakishness_.

And God, it’s been so long since Harry’s had a “crush” on anyone. The quiet giddiness and frightful butterflies that fluttered in the stomach have been elusive to Harry for a long while. So, Harry decides to enjoy it.

“My name’s Potter, by the way. Last name, I mean.”

Snape raises a brow. “Okay?”

Harry sits up in his haste to explain his random need to share. “Well, I just thought since you, ya know, told me the truth--”

“Harry Potter,” Snape cuts him off, enunciating the syllables of Harry's name in a way that convinces Harry he has been pronouncing his name wrong his entire life, because it never sounded as good as it did at this moment, coming from Snape's lips.

“Boring name, isn’t it?” Harry chokes out, not bothering to hide how flustered he is this time.

“No,” with a slow shake of his head, Snape disagrees. “It’s a good name.”

Is Harry blushing? He thinks he is.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, a small smile sliding across his face.

“You’re welcome,” Snape pauses and says, “My name is Severus. First name, I mean.”

Harry chuckles at the tease. Severus Snape. Severus Snape. The name replays in his mind for a while, because he knows despite the short time they’ve known each other, the name will stick with him for a while. Forever, even.

“Severus.” Harry tastes the name on his tongue. “I’ve never heard that name before.”

With a laugh, _Severus_ responds, “I must be special then.”

But there’s something about that laugh that’s bitter and sour. Harry thinks better of commenting on it and saves the memory for later.

Harry hums in response, at a loss for words now. The sun was hanging low in the sky, slowly falling into the horizon. The sun’s rays reach through the trees and warm him, and Harry closes his eyes, oddly content in the moment.

**8**

As soon as the sun had set, the temperature dropped _fast._

Neither Harry nor Severus had clothes suitable for such a sudden cold front, so they hurried to make a fire. Now they huddle around it, hands reaching out towards the warmth.

Earlier, Severus brought out a spare blanket and wrapped it around the two men. They sat so close to one another now, and Harry thinks that Severus might be warmer than the fire.

“I th-thought California was supposed to be warm,” Harry bites out through chattering teeth.

Severus is not as affected by the cold. “It is warm. It just so happens to be that the weather isn’t always consistent.”

"Aye, good for it," Harry concedes. He thinks of his life back in London. His flat is bare and has no home-y feel to it. His job as a teaching assistant is tiring, though he loves the kids. School is demanding. It's always the same, day in and day out. Harry suddenly wishes for more.

"Are you so consistent? A boy who traveled to America to find Sasquatch with his friends?" Severus asks doubtfully.

Harry laughs, looking into the fire. "Well, you've got me there. But up until now, I've just been living so plainly. Like there's nothing for me to do."

“Bullshit,” Severus shocks harry with the curse, causing the younger man to snap his head up. “You’re from London. There are opportunities there, ones you’ve yet to find. Don’t act so helpless, unless you want to perceived as a dunderhead.”

"Well, that's not very posh of you to say," Harry teases if only to move the conversation from himself. " _Dunderhead?_ Where are you from?”

“Cokeworth.”

“The Midlands? I wouldn’t have taken you for someone with working-class roots.”

“I cultivated a life for myself in London, and so I adjusted some things.”

Harry frowns, “So.. you changed yourself?”

Severus faces him, and his breath hits Harry’s face. The younger man’s heart picks up speed.

"I know I cannot hide, completely. I'm not so foolish to hope for true anonymity. But the people that do know me, truly, have stayed by my side. That is all anyone needs in the end, I suppose."

“That’s oddly positive of you.” Harry breathes, trying to keep his eyes away from Snape’s lips, but it is so hard when they’re this close.

Dark, black eyes hold Harry’s emerald ones. “Hm. Was it?”

Harry’s not sure he remembers what he said, but he doesn’t care and responds, “Yes.”

And then Harry kisses him. To Harry’s relief and great surprise, Severus wastes no time in kissing him back.

Harry moves closer, removing his hand from the warmth of the blanket and places it on the back of Snape’s neck, as the older man gently wraps an arm around Harry’s waist. He touches Harry so softly, treating the younger man delicately—like something to be treated with care.

Lips slide against lips, and a tongue chases the other as the kiss becomes more heated. Their lips are cold, they haven't brushed their teeth, their noses bump, and yet Harry still knows this is the best first kiss he's ever had.

Severus pulls away first, and it scares Harry into overthinking. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t even know—bloody hell, are you even gay?”

For the first time since Harry has been with Snape, he laughs. Like, a _real_ full-bellied laugh.

Glaring, Harry angrily demands, “What’s so funny?”, though he only sounds breathy. Likely because Severus looks beautiful with his head thrown back in joy like he is now.

Severus quiets and faces Harry once more. “I’ve never been asked if I was heterosexual or not. I’ve only been told I am obvious.”

Harry snorts. “Whoever told you that was a liar. I would have never of guessed...”

Severus chuckles again, only this time much quieter. A breeze comes by, reminding them of the coldness. Harry already misses the warmth of kissing Severus.

“Would you like to warm up in the tent, Harry?”

Though, it seems, Harry wouldn't have to miss it for too long. Nervously, Harry nods, mouth agape, and follows Snape into the tent.

They crawl into their shabby shelter, and it's awkward at first, but as soon as Severus is kissing him, they meld together.

Slowly, Severus lowers Harry onto his back, never moving his lips from the younger man’s. Severus' hands are cold, and they chill Harry's skin as they slide under his shirt. Harry's so needy, but he's too nervous to do anything more than desperately clinging onto Snape and pulling him closer.

“Harry,” Severus breathes, but he’s asking a question. _Is this okay? Can I do this?_ goes left unsaid, but Harry knows, and he nods eagerly, unable to find his voice.

Severus pulls Harry's top off, quickly, and he latches onto Harry's neck, causing the young man to hum. But really, his whole body is humming too as Severus makes his way down, sucking and kissing and licking all over Harry’s chest until he captures a nipple in his mouth.

“Fuck.” Harry gets a wave of newfound bravery and pulls Snape back up. His hands shake as he hurriedly pulls Severus’ top off.

He stares, unabashedly at Snape; Behind the man, the fire's light softly filters through the tent, and even in the low light Harry can tell he's thin, apart from the slight belly he has. The rest of his body is all defined muscle that Harry finds firm and taut under his wandering hands.

Harry needs more, however, and moves his hands down to Severus’ cargo shorts. He pulls them down swiftly, along with his underpants.

"Lift your hips," Snape commands, and Harry does, allowing the man to remove his shorts. Soon he's naked too, and Severus is gently laying his body on top of him. He should feel cold, considering the biting chill of tonight's weather, but he feels so hot next to Severus. Harry relishes in the feeling of being this close to him. Harry's never experienced something as heavenly as being held in the right person's arms.

And really, all Harry wants is for Snape to fuck him, desperate and needy, but that’s not an option now. Instead, Severus moves down Harry’s body and take him into his mouth.

Harry moans, loudly, bucking up into the tight, wet heat of Snape’s mouth. Severus’ moves a hand to Harry’s hip and holds him there, keeping him still.

And, “Oh _God_!”, Harry isn’t surprised to find that Severus has such a skillful tongue. Not to mention his sinful talent in deepthroating.

This is better than his dream, Harry decides.

"Severus, plea—" Harry gasps on the word as Severus hums around his cock, his nose nestled in Harry's pubic hair.

Just as he’s closing in on his orgasm, Severus pulls away. Harry begins to whine, but it’s swallowed down with more kissing, and oh fuck, Severus grinds down on him as he does.

“Sev,” Harry cries out between kisses and caresses, only to be shushed as Severus takes them both into his free hand and fucks it.

“Oh Severus please _please_ don't stop I need it so bad—" All of Harry's words jumbled together as the pleasure of the friction only builds and builds. And fuck, Harry is worried he's going to come too fast.

Snape leans down and continues to grind into his hand. His lips seek Harry’s, and he kisses him greedily, and Harry feels like this is it. This is what he’s been craving for so long. To feel wanted like _this_.

Harry feels it building in his gut, and he's climbing. The pleasure grows until he ascends into the night sky that's above them, where he glows with the stars.

“You’re so beautiful, Harry.”

And then he's falling. His back arches as he falls entirely into the bliss of his orgasm and he knows Severus is falling with him by the way the man wraps his arms around Harry, shuddering through his orgasm, pulling Harry flush against his chest.

Harry buries his head in the crook of Snape’s neck as they both spill all over Harry’s chest, painting him.

The sounds of the wilderness mingle with their breathing, and as Harry closes his eyes, he pictures the silliest thing—a quiet orchestra playing _this_ song. It makes him hide his face deeper into Snape's neck, as though he could sneak away from the cringey, sappy imagery flickering in his mind's eye.

Another grossly sentimental thought comes to mind, and Harry thinks that maybe getting lost was the best thing that’s happened to him.

**9**

“You snore in your sleep, you know.”

They had spent most of the day in the tent, apart from the quick “bath” they took in the stream after certain _activities_. They did nothing but lounge and sleep and talk and kiss, and Harry relished in every second of it.

“I do not.” Severus disagrees, a frown on his face. Harry laughs at the man’s denial.

“Yes, you do. It’s loud as hell too,” with a glance in Snape's direction and a bashful smile, Harry admits, “But I like it.”

Severus responds with nipping sarcasm, “In that case, I am so grateful to have your blessing, enabling me to snore without fear.”

Harry laughs again, resting his head on Snape’s bare chest. Talking to the man all day revealed to Harry that Severus’ sense of humor is biting and dry, but that made him even more appealing to Harry. Snape is hilarious.

The sun had risen long ago, warming the cool air. Now, it’s gone again, leaving them in inky blackness. It’s still warm, and while Harry’s thankful for not freezing to death, he wishes it was still cold, so he has an excuse for clinging to Severus like he so pathetically does.

Harry can’t fight his hunger for Snape’s touch, so he leans up and places a kiss on the corner of Severus’s lips, focusing all his tender and embarrassing thoughts there.

“Harry...” Severus sighs, reaching up to cup Harry’s cheek and pull him down for a deeper kiss.

They both moan into it, and Harry thinks that he’ll never get enough of this.

But the kiss is cut short.

There’s a sound so similar to that of the heavy footfalls Harry and his friends heard only a few nights ago. The sound of twigs snapping and grass ruffling comes into the tent, successfully catching both men’s attention.

“What was that?” Harry asks, heart pounding. He didn’t want to get mauled by a fucking bear.

When Harry turns to Snape again, it’s obvious to see the man is more determined than scared, and Harry’s heart plummets.

“Severus...” he silently begs the man not to go out there. That _Don’t, please don’t, it isn’t safe!_ goes ignored.

In an instant, Severus is up, pulling on his clothes with quick and quiet grace, and Harry feels that he has no choice but to do the same.

He’s horrified at the thought of Severus getting hurt, so if he has to go to stop the other man when it gets out of hand, he will.

Harry finishes pulling on his last shoe when Snape hurries out of the tent. He follows the man out of the tent, sick with desperation. Severus is running in the direction of the sound, and Harry has to use the adrenaline pumping through his veins to keep up with the older man.

He huffs as he runs behind Snape, both of them zigzagging through trees. Harry narrowly misses tripping over branches and rocks, each time pushing him to move faster.

He can barely see where Severus is in front of him, but he manages. It isn’t until there’s the sound of clinking metal and a horrible roar that they both stop running in astonishment. But the pause doesn’t last long, and again Snape takes off in the direction of the sound.

Harry is horrified.

 _No, no, no..._ he thinks in his head, as his heart starts pumping louder and louder in his ears until that is all he can hear.

Another loud, pained roar echoes through the trees. They're so close. Harry wants to run the other direction, but he can't. Not when Severus could get hurt.

And before Harry can even process what’s happening, they come across it.

Holy bloody _fuck_.

Both men stop and stare. Harry’s head is reeling, thoughts flying in and out of his head to quickly to decipher.

Severus reaches down into his side pocket for something. A click and then a flashlight is on, shining onto _The_ Sasquatch.

“It’s real,” Severus breathes.

And it is real, looking just as people have always described it. It’s ginormous and wide. Hair covers every inch of its body, the skin of its palms and feet are golden tan. With horror, Harry sees that it has long, sharp claws on its hands, unlike the monkey-like hands Harry always pictured. Its face is a sight of wide eyes and a large mouth filled with long, sharp teeth.

It’s struggling under a blanket of heavy chains, tangled under it. On its large foot is a bear trap that closes around its giant heel.

It’s scared. And there’s nothing that makes a person or animal more dangerous.

In a bizarre moment of empathy, Harry steps forward. He inches closer, keeping his movement slow and calm.

"Harry!" Severus hisses, but the younger man ignores him and continues inching closer.

The closer he gets, the more Bigfoot thrashes. It fights so desperately to get away from Harry that it breaks his heart.

Harry doesn’t want to be something that it’s afraid of.

“Shh...” he hushes it, in a hopeless attempt to soothe the thing.

It doesn’t work. Sasquatch still kicks and claws away, but Harry is again moving in on the creature. It's like something is telling him too. Telling him that he can help. That he _has_ to help.

Quieting his voice, he whispers, “It’s okay, big guy,”—he’s crouching down next to it now—“I only want to help.”

It roars at him, and he flinches. Behind Harry, he can hear a sharp intake of breath from Severus.

"Let me help you," Harry asks it, saddened by the fear and pain its eyes. "Please."

Something must have changed, because Sasquatch stops moving, stops struggling and meets Harry's eyes.

It sniffs the air in Harry’s direction, and Harry frightens himself when he recognizes just how close he is to this new creature. He can feel the puff of air coming from its mouth.

Crouched next to it, Harry takes in just how big the thing is. Harry’s short, but it still speaks to the size of the thing when it’s entire thigh is almost as thick as Harry’s height when he’s crouching.

“I want to help you,” he says, voice quivering in fear. He will not be deterred. He wants to help.

He finds the end of the chain blanket. It’s heavy, but Harry pulls it off of the creature, not thinking about the possibility that it might attack him as soon as it’s free.

The sasquatch isn’t tangled badly, but it was impossible for it to get out before when it was panicking. Much to Harry's relief, it doesn't flee as soon as it's freed from the chains, giving Harry the chance to focus on the homemade Sasquatch-sized bear trap.

Harry holds his breath as reaches for the giant bear trap.

“Severus, how do I undo this?” Harry’s voice is too calm. It can’t be his. He should be freaking out right now, and yet he isn’t.

Snape’s own voice is shaking when he answers, “You have to compress the springs. Put pressure on them.”

“Okay,” Harry says. He reaches with both hands to the trap. His hand grazes the soft hair on the creature’s leg, who flinches. Harry says, “Sh,” to pacify it, and continues. He places one hand on the spring and other on one of the jaws. Harry’s not strong enough, but he tries anyway, putting as much strength into it as he can.

And suddenly, the jaws are slowly opening, pulling away from Bigfoot’s skin. Astonished, Harry realizes the creature is helping him.

Then, it’s open, and the ginormous thing pulls away from it, stands, and puts distance between itself and Harry.

Harry steps back as well, watching it as it views him. It's a lot more intimidating when it's standing tall at, what? 7? 8 feet?

Still, no paralyzing fear moves Harry. He stands and nods his head towards the creature.

It’s strange, but Harry _swears_ it nods back at him before taking off into the dark woods.

**10**

They walk back to the tent in quiet disbelief. When they get back, Harry makes another fire with some spare wood and Severus's lighter in silence. He's too excited to sleep but too shocked to say anything.

Severus, it seems, doesn’t feel the same.

“You’re an idiot!” He yells angrily, startling Harry at the sudden breaking of silence. “I have never in my life seen someone act so recklessly! You could have gotten yourself killed!”

His red face looks even brighter in the orange glow of the fire. His anger vibrates through him. His entire posture is tense and angry.

Harry isn't angry, though, he's furious. "Me? I'm the reckless one? You were the one who chased after the fucking thing!" His voice rises, "So don't be upset with me! You have no right, and it's completely unfair! You scared me!"

“You got close to the thing Harry! You could have died! And then what would I have done?”

 _Oh_ , Harry thinks, _We’re mad for the same reasons._

Harry’s fury deflates like a balloon. “I’m sorry. I was only worried for you.”

The pale man huffs, arms crossing. "I forgive you, I suppose." He looks far too superior and smug in his stance, but Harry lets it go because he knows it's only because Snape was worried too.

They sit in front of the fire. They stay quiet for a moment, each of them taking the time to process what happened and how they feel.

When the situation finally dawns on Severus, he turns to Harry and says, “It is real. I told you so, did I not?”

Harry rolls his eyes in response. “Yeah, yeah. You were right. Happy?”

“Yes, I am.” Severus is looking at him when he responds, and Harry knows he’s not talking about finding Bigfoot.

"So," Harry moves to change the subject, too anxious to address that subject. “Do you think it was a male or female?”

It’s Snape’s turn to roll his eyes. “I don’t know, Harry. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s a serious question!”

“Shut up.”

“Just answer the question.”

“No.”

“Answer the—”

Severus attacks Harry’s mouth to quiet him. Harry doesn’t complain.

They kiss and touch, and Severus finally gives Harry the proper blowjob he had been dreaming of (literally). Every touch and kiss and stroke is an attempt to assure each other that they're okay. They're alive. No one is going anywhere.

After they've finished, Severus falls asleep. Harry stays up all night, sleep eluding him.

So, Harry carefully untangles himself from Snape and leaves the tent, sitting just outside of it. He can still hear Severus’ obnoxious snores as he turns his eyes to the sky and watches the sunrise for the first time.

Unlike the purple-pink hues that appear at sunset, the sunrise is orange and red. It comes up, ever so slowly, peeking above the horizon.

It’s breathtaking. Maybe more beautiful than the sunset.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow my tumblr! snarryberry.tumblr.com


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